


Feed the ravens

by Ghelik



Category: The 100
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Future Fic, If You Squint - Freeform, Mythology References, bellamy has some issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-07 07:39:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12836433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghelik/pseuds/Ghelik
Summary: Bellamy wakes with a jolt, the nightmare slipping away like water between his fingers, leaving only the feeling that something is terribly wrong.





	Feed the ravens

_“Stay.”_

 

Bellamy wakes with a start, his whole body humming with accumulated tension, heart hammering against his ribs. He looks down at himself, half surprised to see his clothes intact and his hands blood-free. The memories of the nightmare vanish like water between his fingers, but the unease remains, and he stands up, shaking the dirt off his clothes.

 

Something is off, but he can’t quite put his finger on what. A crow caws loudly.

 

Bellamy steps out of his tent. The sun is high in the sky, which means he’s slept through most of the morning which is unusual for him. Ever since he was a kid,  he never slept much, always the light sleeper, always on high alert.

 

Something itches behind his shoulder blades as he surveys the quiet camp. There is a group of gatherers sorting leaves and fruits right by the stump where Jaha Jr. carved a chessboard. There’s always someone by the water tarp, or milling about by the dropship doors and today is no exception. He recognizes them all, of course. When surrounded by just 100 people you know everyone. Intimately. Still, there’s something weird going on.

 

Jasper comes out of the tent to his left, stops short when he sees him, and a second later, the young, gangly boy is crashing against him, pulling Bellamy into a crushing hug.

 

“What the hell?” he grumbles, but there are inexplicable tears prickling in his eyes, and his hands go around Jasper’s slim back to return the hug.

 

The boy smiles blindingly at Bellamy, pushes his goggles a little bit higher on his forehead and says “You look good.” With that, he claps his shoulder and saunters off.

 

The whole exchange is weird, but not unlike the usually-high teen. Yet, Bellamy feels like weeping with inexplicable joy. He pushes that weird urge down and wanders over to the wall. Noticing the side-glances and small grins, the excitement humming behind him. He isn’t sure what all this is about and cannot shake the feeling that something is not as it should.

 

Not for the first time, he wishes Clarke were here.

 

He shakes himself, climbing up to the wall and releasing Fox from watch duty. “Something happen?”

 

She swallows, looking at him with the same sort of wonder that was in Jasper’s face.

 

“Nope. Everything quiet.”

 

Bellamy nods, the itch between his shoulder blades shifting slightly as he surveys the darkness beyond the wall. The trees look black and ominous, like light cannot pierce through the dense canopy. An ice cold breeze shakes Fox’s long hair as she turns to climb down the wall.

 

“Hey, Fox!”

 

She turns her big round eyes towards him. It always startles him how similar she looks to a deer: delicate and innocent, somehow.

 

“It’s good to see you,” Bellamy says lamely, realizing perfectly well how strange that must sound, but so overwhelmed with the need to say it.

 

Her smile is sad and frail. “You too,” she answers hurrying away. Probably creeped out.

 

There’s a small perimeter between the wall and the ominous looking forest. Bellamy knows he should be watching the woods, but instead his eyes keep getting drawn to the little patch of flowers just at the edge of the light circle that seems to shine exclusively on top of the dropship-site and the cold disquieting darkness of the forest.

 

It’s not like the forest is a black wall, of course not. Bellamy can see the shapes of trees and underbrush, see shifting shadows and even catch the movement of some small animal.

 

But there’s something wrong, and he knows it. This forest looks… Looks…

 

Bellamy watches the sun growing dimmer in the weirdest sunset he’s ever seen. Behind him, the delinquents guild a fire and a group of hunters rush quickly out of the forest carrying what looks like a boar.

 

Someone climbs up the wall, and he feels himself shudder. Atom smiles sheepishly at him. “I… I’ll take the night shift?” he says, like a peace offering. Bellamy’s gut twists, remembering how he treated the younger man. How he’s let him down. How he’s let everyone down there down.

 

“It’s ok. I’m not tired.”

 

Atom steps closer, standing right next to him. They stay in companionable silence for a while, watching the pitch-black forest and listening to the sounds of the camp behind them. Bellamy’s ears keep picking out a distinctively husky voice he knows he cannot be hearing.

 

“Shit!” Atom shifts suddenly next to him, startling him out of his thoughts.

 

The young man stands ramrod straight, his hands tightening around his semiautomatic rifle. “What is it?”

 

But he can hear it now, too: a distinctive shifting on the ground; the purposeful beat of a drum coming closer. He narrows his eyes at the darkness and can nearly feel it shifting.

 

An arrow flights past him, embedding itself neatly in Atom’s eye. “GROUNDERS!” Bellamy finds himself shouting, even before the teen hits the ground.

 

On the ground the kids rush around, not like headless chickens, not scared and confused like the first few times, they found themselves cornered and attacked. Not on like they did during their first battle at the dropship site. But like they’ve done this a thousand times. They climb up the wall, its structure groaning under their weight. They handle their rifles with practiced ease, shooting into the darkness. Still, the grounders’ aim is better, their poisonous arrows felling them like corn on a field and Bellamy can do nothing but watch it, fight and watch his friends die one by one. Alone in the chaos and his heart beats like a grounder drum as he watches their enemy charge and breaks their door down.

 

Hand to hand combat against that giant with the terrifying mask feels like a lost cause, but his people are retreating into the dropship and they might – just might – survive there.

 

Finn comes to his side and gets his head chopped off for his troubles. At first cannot feel the blade as it goes into his belly, probably piercing something important in the process. His hands shake. He doesn’t want to die.

 

Smoke and fire curl over his head, playing with the shadows on the stranger’s mask, making it grin manically at him.

Bellamy doesn’t want to die.

 

“Don’t you dare,” whispers a voice he knows but cannot locate in his ear. “Don’t leave me alone. Please…”

 

But the darkness closes in on him. Coldness nagging at his entrails and pulling, pulling, pulling him under, choking him until he’s left floating in nothingness. Alone and cold and not really scared, but not calm either.

 

***

 

Bellamy jolts awake. His whole body humming with accumulated tension, his heart hammering against his ribs.

 

He looks down at himself, surprised to see his clothes intact and his hands blood-free but not sure why he is. Memories of the nightmare fade quickly, leaving him only with a hollow feeling in his chest and the certainty that something is wrong.

 

Outside the sun is high, which means he’s slept through most of the morning. Which is disquieting, since he’s always been a light sleeper and it’s not like the camp is actually all that quiet.

Also, he hates that the rest of the delinquents are already up and running and he snoozed through all that needs to be done. Shaking himself, he starts towards the wall but stops when he catches a flicker of spun sunshine out of the corner of his eye.

 

His heart squeezes, and he turns sharply to the left and joins the hunters instead.

 

Bellamy has dealt with these…. mirages before, knows it’s not real and he will not walk down that path again.

 

The hunt goes poorly, mainly because he’s distracted and Roma keeps looking at him like she’s not sure what to do with him. Which, come on, they slept together two or three times nearly thirty years ago. It shouldn’t be a big deal, and it shouldn’t be a big deal now. Somehow they do manage to hunt down a deer before going back to camp, which is fortunate since they need to feed everyone.

 

When they get back to camp with their prey, they find a large bonfire already crackling in the middle of their square. Wolf and Mgbe carve it and pass the meat over to the cooks, who spear the meat and put it on the fire. Bellamy sits next to Charlotte, listening to her recounting of her day. The spark of pride and parental love he feels towards her leaving him happy and content. In his mind, he vows he’ll never let anything bad happen to her.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a distinct blonde standing next to Jasper and his chest tightens. But before he can either turn away or look at her, the lookouts on the wall shout a warning. Finn falls off the Wall, an arrow sticking out of his chest. Beside him, Charlotte screams. The delinquents hurry around, picking their rifles up and climbing the wall. Little Charlotte right at their heals and he wants to stop her, but knows they need all the manpower they can get.

 

The fight is brutal and bloody. His people fall around him with screams and sobs and cries, and Bellamy feels useless, even if he’s shooting the grounders that come crashing out of the darkness.

 

The choking stench of blood and shit hangs low in the air.

 

Beside him Charlotte falls off the wall, slamming her head open on a rock, her big scared eyes staring up at him. Anger and sadness war for his attention. He picks Charlotte’s gun up.

 

The doors crash to the ground pulled off their hinges by colossal battle horses. The grounders spill into camp, and he’s there to greet them.

 

A spear pierces his chest. He watches it poking out of himself, his brain trying to comprehend what’s happening. His hands shake when he brings them to his chest, they’re slippery against the shaft, and he doesn’t have enough strength to pull it out.

 

The world around him is quickly fading. His brain gets caught in the terrible realization that he’s about to die. He doesn’t want to die.

 

Somewhere a crow caws loudly.

 

A flash of spun sunshine catches his eye. Turning his head seems like the hardest thing Bellamy’s ever done. He watches her fall to the ground, and his heart breaks once again.

 

He closes his eyes, but he can still see her hair spread on the dirt.

 

“… Don’t leave me …”

 

***

 

Bellamy wakes up with a start, his heart feels like it’s been squeezed in a tight fist and he cannot remember what he just dreamed, only that it felt like a nightmare he’s had before.

 

He rubs at his chest and stands up, wandering over to the flap. There are things to do. He has work to do…

 

But his feet won’t move. He doesn’t feel like getting out. He doesn’t want to see all those familiar faces hear their happy chatter. Not when he is – once again – feeling like he’s in a vacuum when breathing feels like a chore and all he can think about is her.

 

Bellamy takes a deep breath, sits on the tangle of furs, and blankets that pass as a bed. Taking a deep breath, he tries to empty his mind. He’s been through this. Many times. It’s annoying that he has to deal with it again.

 

He concentrates on taking deep slow breaths, on clearing his mind of everything, concentrating instead on what’s real: on his body sitting on the not-so-comfortable makeshift bed. His hands, relaxed on his thighs. His lungs, slowly filling and emptying.

 

The air is crisp and cold, filled with noises of the living. There’s no place here for her, and he convinces himself of this, slowly taking himself through the painful memories, step by step. Purging them from his mind until he’s sure he’s sure that he’s conquered his mind. That he’s convinced himself that he knows what’s real and what is not.

 

A commotion outside jolts him back to the present, and he hurries back to the tent’s flap, only to stop short at the sight of her standing there, her eyes round and blue, her hair like spun sunshine and her skin as fair and smooth as the last time he saw her.

 

She opens her mouth like she wants to say something, but is interrupted by the loud crack of the wall doors being torn from their hinges. Over her shoulders, he sees the camp turned into a battlefield. The dim light of twilight playing with the shadows of the dead children as he’s apparently slept through the whole day.

 

A horse charges through the broken-down doors of his home, its rider, a terrifying giant wearing a human skull as a mask, shoots an arrow at them. At her.

 

Bellamy doesn’t think. There’s no time to think. He just acts, throwing himself at her and trying to push her out of the way. She embraces him instead.

 

The arrow pierces his back. It’s painful. Not as painful as seeing the tip poking shyly out of her back.

 

His knees buckle. She falls on top of him, her hair landing in his mouth, her arms trapped beneath him. She’s warm, her back sticky with blood. He can feel her shuddering breath against his throat, and it’s like she’s branding him with it.

 

This illusion is not like anyone he’s ever had before. She feels real. He can smell her – not just a small memory of a scent, but truly smell her hair, her skin, her sweat, her blood. He can feel her skin and her hair and her blood. Can feel the weight of her on top of him, the tears dampening his shirt, the warmth of her skin.

Bellamy crushes her to him with as much force as he can considering he’s bleeding out on the floor. Closes his eyes and, even if he’s dying, he doesn’t want this moment to ever end.

 

“Don’t you dare…”

 

***

 

Bellamy wakes just in time to be violently sick.

 

The vivid images of the nightmare are fading quickly, but he feels like he can still smell blood and gunpowder. Like he’s still being crushed by a warm weight, like…

 

He needs to get out of here. He’s losing his mind, and he needs to get out.

 

Nobody stops him as he hurries towards the doors. Nobody should be able to, Bellamy tells himself.

He knows now why the world seems strange. Knows what’s wrong, and he needs to get out of here.

 

Jasper is standing by the doors and smiles at him, with that easy and goofy smile that makes him look like a gangly foal. Bellamy fights back the tears.

 

He’s been through this shit, many times, he doesn’t need it again.

 

“Where’s the fire?” he asks like nothing’s wrong. Like he’s just… Like before. But the illusion has shattered because Bellamy can still feel her blood on his hands and he remembers now. He tries to push past him, Monroe cocks her head to the side.

 

“Bellamy, what’s wrong?”

 

The concern in her voice makes him sick because seeing her now: so young and alive and carefree only reminds him of how he last saw her and it’s not fair.

 

“Leave me alone!” he roars and pushes the doors open, charging headfirst into the forest. It’s darker than it should, the blackness eating away at the trees, throwing everything into an unnatural and creepy light. Still, he doesn’t stop, keeps running south towards Camp Jaha…

 

The sun is going down. A crow caws in the distance.

 

Bellamy stumbles out of the woods and finds himself face to face with the dropship’s wall. He tries to understand how this is possible. How can he be back here?

 

Behind him, he hears the war drums and knows what is going to happen. The spear nails him to the wall. It’s almost painless as the metal goes through his throat. But only almost. He knows what’s going to happen, knows that, very soon, his people’s blood will soak the ground. Again.

 

“Don’t leave me alone. Please stay…”

 

***

 

Bellamy jolts awake, his heart racing. He gulps down a few shuddering breaths and brings his hands to his throat. The nightmare is fading quickly. He tries to remember what was so horrible about it, but cannot remember.

 

He stands up, wanders out and looks over the camp. Everything seems in order: Jaha Jr. has convinced someone to play with him on the tree-stump chess board he so carefully carved. Jasper and Roma are goofing by the nut station, making small ration packs. Mgbe is an asshole to some kid – Jamie, his name is Jamie, and he’s fourteen years old. The second youngest kid in camp after Charlotte.

 

There’s something tying all these children together, Bellamy knows. But he cannot put his finger on it until he sees Finn by the dropship’s door talking to a curvy blond.

 

Bellamy’s first instinct is to turn away, ignore the mirage like he’s learned to do. But Finn is talking to her. And… a tiny part of his mind remembers her warm skin, her rich scent.

 

Walking the short distance from his tent to the Dropship’s door seems to take forever. By the time he makes it, she’s already inside, and Finn’s gone somewhere. The inside of the dropship is cold and dark, the ground floor looks precisely like he remembers it: her doctor-y supplies neatly organized on makeshift shelves, seats repurposed as beds and a wooden stretcher mounted on sturdy metallic legs doubling as an operating table.

 

She, too, looks exactly like the last time he saw her: down to the small laugh-lines around her eyes and mouth. Her smile is soft and blinding, somehow, her eyes are sad. Bellamy’s heart lurches in his chest.

 

“Gray looks good on you,” she teases, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear. Bellamy can feel the warmth of her fingers against his scalp.

 

He catches her hand. Pushing it away.

 

“I’ve missed you,” she says.

 

“You are dead.”

 

Her smile is shaky and unsure, she hugs herself, hands flexing against her upper arms.

 

“Did you miss me?” she tries awkwardly. And she looks so guilty and uncertain, he can’t help it but pull her into a tight hug. She sighs, burying her nose into his chest, her arms coming naturally around his back.

 

“I’ve missed you so much.”

 

She swallows. “How long…?”

 

“Sixteen years.”

 

Her arms tighten around him.

 

“I wish it had been longer.”

 

They stand in silence, just hugging and breathing each other in. She still fits perfectly against him. His arms explicitly made to hold her. When she finally steps back, her eyes are puffy and red with tears.

 

“Was it good?” She asks, earnest. “Where you happy after…?”

 

Bellamy studies her face, brushes a tear from her cheek with his thumb. “It took a while. But… Yes, it was. I was.”

 

It is true. The first few months were a nightmare, and even after, for the first few years, he sometimes caught himself looking for her in the crowd, waking surprised to find her side of the bed empty and cold. But, slowly, he rebuilt himself.

 

“I’m glad. That’s the only thing I ever wanted.”

 

Bellamy finds himself smiling. He squeezes her hand. “And you?”

 

From outside comes a commotion. She shrugs. “I’ve been here. Waiting. Preparing.” She swallows. “Fighting.”

 

“Every day?”

 

“Everyday we live. And every night we die.”

 

She walks to the door.

 

“Do you remember every day?” she stops, looks at him.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Why don’t I?”

 

“You haven’t wrapped your head around the fact yet.” She steps out of the dropship and into the battlefield. Bellamy follows.

 

“What fact?”

 

She picks up a rifle.

 

“Clarke!”

 

On the other side of the camp, the wall doors won’t hold much longer.

 

A crow caws overhead.

 

“That you’re dead, Bellamy.”

 

The doors smash open, and the enemy streams in. Clarke charges ahead, shooting her rifle, hair blowing in the wind.

 

Bellamy watches her.

 

He remembers now. Remembers holding her hand as Clarke faded away. Remembers Jasper saying goodbye to him, remembers seeing Jaha Jr – Wells – corpse by the half-built wall, Atom begging to be killed, Charlotte throwing herself off a cliff.

 

He picks up a rifle, squares his shoulders.

 

He remembers the random explosion. A freak accident burning away his body. Remembers Raven hurrying him into the hospital – not a med bay, but a whole two story-building.

 

Bellamy charges.

 

He remembers his friends and family around him. He remembers his daughter crying and his partner clutching his hand.

 

A crow caws. The sword pierces his belly. Bellamy falls to the ground.

 

“Don’t you dare,” whispers a voice he knows but cannot locate in his ear. “Don’t leave me alone. Please stay.”

 

***

 

Bellamy wakes. He’s not afraid. He remembers. He pushes the tarp away and goes to work. There’s much to be done before the grounders attack.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Hoping I am not becoming too predictable with my not so clever twists of "oh, no, someone is dead!" 
> 
> Anyway. This story was slightly inspired by the Norse version of Heaven in which warriors get to feast and be happy during the night and spend their days fighting and killing each other.
> 
> What do you think? Is it heaven or hell? Let me know in the comments, or over on Tumblr. 
> 
> Thank you so much as always for reading.


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